All rights
reserved for agitation
Whitey had
served us well, longer than most of her kind; but I knew the end was near. She no longer could do her job. There were tell-tale signs of wear, grinding
noises when she turned around, failure to complete the job, leaks. I didn’t think I could ever find a
replacement for Whitey. She was simple,
easy to operate, and could handle her loads large or small, but when the sales
flyer arrived in the mail, I knew it was time to let her go.
On the
second page, there staring me right in the credit card, was Whitey II, same
number of knobs, top loading, white, and an agitator, smaller but then the
first Whitey was really ahead of her
time. Dr. Hubby brought in the dolly,
disconnected Whitey and hauled her to the barn while I raced off to the big box
store. I guess he thought it would be
too painful for me to watch or he was just anxious to have some clean
underwear.
I arrived
breathless at the store, credit card in one hand, sale flyer in the other. “I need a Whitey. Where is the Whitey?” The salesman glanced at a box of Kleenex, the
mega stack of toilet paper next to the register, then pointed to the
restroom. “The white washing machine
with the three knobs,” I said pointing to the picture in the flyer and speaking
very slowly and distinctly in case he was hard of hearing or had just arrived in
America. He led the way to a row of
washing machines but I noticed he kept the row of machines between himself and
me.
“No, this is
not the one. This one has six knobs,
sensing, wash type, lock, weight, fabric type, detergent HD, non-HD,
rinse. I want three knobs.”
He backed away
from the washer he was standing in front of.
“No, this
one has the three knobs but (I raised the lid) it doesn’t have an agitator.”
“How long
has it been since you bought a washing machine?” he asked.
I was glad
he could speak and in English so I gave him the long service history of Whitey,
including all the times I had dyed fabric for plays in her, and the times I had
to bleach Dr. Hubby’s pink underwear because had forgotten to rinse out the tub
after a red curtain dye job.
“Ma’am (he
was speaking loudly going into his Senior Citizen mode) they haven’t made a
machine like that in years.”
“I know,” I
said proudly, “she’s one of a kind. I
was looking for this particular model.”
“Here it
is.”
I looked at
the machine, three knobs, ok. “Where is
the water level knob?”
“There isn’t
one. It weighs the fabric. There is a
computer that tells you how much water to use.”
“But I don’t
want it to tell me how much water to use.
I know how much water to use. I
have been washing clothes for 65 years.
And where is the agitator?”
“Most models
today do not have an agitator. “
“So what
makes the clothes go swish swish?” I
looked around for one of those hidden cameras like they use on those TV shows
like Practical Jokers or America’s Funniest Home Videos or maybe this guy had
parked his alien space ship behind the counter?
Not waiting for an answer I continued.
“You mean to tell me that there is not a single washing machine in this
store that has an agitator and three knobs?”
He walked to
the far end of the row of machines, pointed to one, and stepped back. “Agitator, three knobs. This is the best I can do lady.” He had gone from “Senior Citizen” mode to “Whack-o
Old Lady” mode.
I
looked. It did have an agitator, a small
one, and it did have three knobs which I guess was as close as I was going to
get Whitey, even though not one single knob said “Water Level”.
The next day
Dr. Hubby had the Whitey imposter installed in the laundry room. I noticed for the first time that my laundry detergent
of many years now had a sticker that said “HD for all types of machines.” “Humph, we’ll see” I thought.
Knob #1 Soil level:
light (ha, we live on red clay) medium, heavy
Knob #2 Wash Temperature: Cold, cool darks (what the computer has eyes
to see color?) cool lights, warm, hot
Knob #3 Multiple Guess: Soak, deep wash, heavy duty, normal (ha!)
casual (this machine can sense style?) delicates, rinse/spin, clean washer,
drain/spin
After ten
days, 89 loads, lifting the lid at every possible stage, and trying every
conceivable combination of Knobs #1, #2, #3 to get enough water to cover the
laundry, I took matters into my own hands.
I got two quart bottles, filled them with water and rocks, screwed on
the lids tightly and tossed them in with every load of laundry. The machine weighed the “clothes” and filled
the wash tub with enough water to wash the clothes.
Yes. I am
smarter than a washing machine.
